He's soooo not a Yacht Guy!
by kjewls
Summary: When Nick tags along on Jess' first date with Russell, things don't exactly go as planned . . .
1. Chapter 1

"So, what exactly does one wear on a yacht date, with a ridiculously rich, grown-up, type guy?" Jess wondered out loud, her towel draped over her mid-section, as she frowned at her open closet.

Cece was sprawled on Jess' bed, absent-mindedly flipping through the pages of an old issue of _Cosmopolitan. _"Something that shows off your boobs," she said decisively.

Jess rolled her eyes. "Cece! You've said that about every date I've been on, ever since that time I went to McDonald's with Michael Testeroni in the fifth grade. And I didn't even have boobs back then!"

Cece smirked. "But you do now! And the same rules still apply."

"Ooh, I know! I'll wear this!" Jess exclaimed excitedly, extracting the chosen item from the back of her closet.

Cece squinted, certain she must be seeing things wrong. "Is that an actual _sailor suit_?"

Jess nodded proudly. "I bought it to wear, back when our school did a production of _South Pacific_ for its spring musical. It's perfect for this occasion, don't you think?"

"That depends . . . are you planning to spend your date making out with your new, extremely successful boyfriend, while the wind whips through your hair? Or are you planning to spend it scrubbing barnacles off the side of the boat, while singing sea shanties?"

Jess pouted. "I don't know! I told you, I've never been on a yacht before. That's why you have to help me!"

Cece laughed. Sometimes her friend could be so adorably clueless. "Here," she said, pulling a cute red sundress from Jess' closet. "Wear this."

Suddenly, the door to Jess' room flew open. "Hey Jess, have you seen my . . ." Nick's words escaped him, as he caught sight of Jess, clad in nothing, but her way-too-short white towel . . . her thin muscular legs still dappled with droplets of water. ". . . _razors_?"

"So, do you guys have like a 'No-Knock' Policy, or something?" Cece inquired dryly.

Jess ignored her. "Try under the sink in the back left corner, right next to my pink ones," she offered helpfully.

"Thanks, Jess," replied Nick, as he hesitated by the door. "So," he began, in a voice he hoped sounded casual. "Are you ready to suckle on the teet of consumerism?"

Jess grinned. "Oh yeah! I'm going to suck some serious teet, today," she exclaimed, as she mimed the action of sucking, while goofily dancing around her bedroom, thereby, causing her towel to come dangerously close to unraveling itself from her body entirely.

It took Jess a few minutes to notice that both Nick and Cece were gawking at her, but for entirely different reasons. "I took that joke too far, didn't I?" She asked.

"Yeah, you did," replied Cece bluntly.

"A little too far," said Nick simultaneously.

"_Definitely_, too far," Cece corrected.

Cece looked at the time on her iPhone and rose from the bed. "I should go. I got a photo shoot for a panty hose commercial in an hour, and I haven't even shaved my legs. There's only so much photo shop can do, you know?"

"Cece, wait! You have to help me zip up my dress. Remember the last time I tried to zip up a dress, myself? My thumb got caught in the zipper, and I ended up having to go to the Emergency Room! To this day, the thumbnail on my right hand is always shorter than the one on my left."

Cece glanced mischievously over it Nick, who was standing stock still, seemingly still entranced by the sight of Jess in a towel. "Nick, will help. Won't you, Nick?"

"What?" Nick said, blinking hard to force himself out of his daze. "Oh yeah, sure . . . I'm an expert at zipping and unzipping dresses . . . not because I actually wear dresses, or anything, but because I . . . nevermind . . . I'll help."

Cece had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. "OK, I gotta go, Jess. Call me, after your date. And don't worry. It's going to be great," she said supportively, offering her friend a hug, before leaving the room, and decisively closing the door behind her.

"OK, Nick. Why don't you sit down on the bed, and make yourself comfortable, while I get changed? And no peeking!"

"Don't worry, Jess. I'll be the perfect gentleman," promised Nick, as he settled down on Jess' bed, carefully placing one of her throw pillows in his lap, just in case he accidentally 'peeked.'"

Nick heard the taunting rustling of fabric, as he forced his eyes to study the pattern on Jess' comforter. Minutes later, Jess emerged in front of him, her opened dress hanging loosely over toned frame. "OK, I'm ready. Zip me up, Scotty."

"Did you just make a _Star Trek_ joke?" Nick asked with a grin.

"That depends . . . was it lame?"

"What would you say, if I said yes?" Nick asked.

"Well, then I'd say it wasn't a joke. And I just temporarily forgot that your name was _Nick_, and not Scotty."

"That makes sense," replied Nick, with a chuckle.

"No more talking. It's zippy time!" Jess admonished, pulling her long hair away from her neck, as Nick rose to position himself behind her.

His hands lingered for a moment on Jess' skin, as he marveled over its downy softness. The surprising warmth and gentleness of his touch made Jess inhale sharply. This caused Nick to realize that he had been holding his breath too.

He took his time, moving the zipper, slowly, and tantalizingly, up Jess' spine, as he pressed his free hand firmly against her waist to steady himself. Instinctively, she relaxed into his touch, even allowing her eyes to flutter closed for a brief moment. When he reached the top, she felt his breath on the back of her neck, warm and inviting. "All done," he said softly, his voice sounding strangely husky in her ear, as he reluctantly relinquished his grasp.

Jess turned toward him abruptly, causing Nick to take a quick, and awkward, step back, so as not to be tempted to push her against the wall and ravish her right there. "So . . . how do I look?" She asked self-consciously.

Nick's face felt unusually warm, as Jess twirled before him, the skirt of her red sundress lifting ever-so-slightly as she moved, offering an alluring peak at what lied beneath. His mouth went dry, as he ran his fingers through his hair nervously. "You look . . . _amazing_," he said solemnly.

"Thank you," replied Jess, almost shyly. "I really needed to hear that, today."

"Um . . . yeah . . . of course . . . no problem," Nick stuttered. "Well, I should probably let you finish getting ready. Russell will be here to pick us up in less than ten minutes."

Jess narrowed her eyes at her roommate. "_Us_ . . . as in _you and me?"_

Nick grinned. "Oh, yeah . . . Russell didn't tell you? Last night, he and I were talking about how I'd never been on a yacht before, and . . ."

"You talk to my prospective new boyfriend on the phone?" Jess interrupted.

She was clearly feeling jealous, though she wasn't quite sure _who_ exactly she was more jealous of . . . Russell or Nick?

"Yeah . . . all the time! He gave me his number, after I offered to have his Chair Sweater dry cleaned for him . . . Dry cleaning Chair Sweaters is very important, you know. Anyway, after I told him about having never been on a yacht, he invited me to come out with you guys. That's . . . not a problem, is it?" Nick asked, eyeing Jess with a bit of concern.

"Well . . ."

Jess bit her lower lip, as she pondered this question. Perhaps, she was overreacting. Having a roommate who was friends with her boyfriend certainly wasn't the worst thing in the world. After all, _none_ of her friends liked her ex, Spencer, _at all_. And look how well _that _turned out.

Besides, it was Nick who convinced Jess to go out with Russell, in the _first place_. Having him there as a buffer might keep her from making a fool of herself on her first date. In a sense, Nick could be like Date Training Wheels for Russell.

"No," Jess said finally with a smile. "It's no problem at all. I'm happy we are going to get to experience our first time on a yacht _together_. I think that's great."

"Good . . . I'm glad you're cool with it," answered Nick, looking relieved.

"Besides, roommates are supposed to share things together. It's just like the time Cece and I shared a bunk bed at Camp Hiawatha in the seventh grade. And we both got our first periods on the same night."

Nick made his trademark turtle face, in disgust.

"I made things uncomfortable again, didn't I?" Jess asked guiltily.

Nick nodded, laughing, as he moved toward the door. "Oh, and Jess," Nick said, turning back toward the room hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Jess inquired, smiling brightly at her roommate, as she fastened a pair of simple gold hoop earrings into each ear.

"I'm glad you decided to give it a try with Russell. I really think you guys will be great together. And I know he can make you happy," Nick insisted, with what Jess thought might have been just a hint of wistfulness.

"Thanks. And thank you for making me do this. You know . . . helping me to finally become a grown-up. It's probably time I got around to doing that," Jess offered brightly.

"Anytime," replied Nick, as he closed the door behind him. "_By the way, I think I'm falling in love with you,_" he added under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

"Russell, _my man_, good to see ya," Nick exclaimed, when Jess' date came to the door.

"Oh, uh . . . hey Nick," replied Russell, who was beginning to wonder whether he had inadvertently started dating two people, who lived in the same apartment.

Jess sidled out from behind Nick to give Russell what ended up being an awkward cross between a hug, a hip bump, and a manly back pat. "Hey . . . youuuu," she said in a voice that sounded unusually high and sing-songy, even for her.

_Oh, no! What if we have nothing to talk about on our date?_ Jess worried. _What do mature adults talk about on dates, anyway? Probably scary stuff, like politics and health care reform. Dammit! I knew I shouldn't have run away screaming, when Winston tried to get me to watch CNN with him, last week . . ._

As it turned out, Jess' worries about not knowing what to say on her "grown-up date" ended up being entirely unfounded. Nick talked Poor Russell's ear off, from the time the threesome left the apartment, until they reached Russell's car. "So, I took your advice, Russell. I went down to the bank and opened up a _real _savings account. I only had ten bucks to put in it. But hey, you gotta start somewhere, right? I heard Bill Gates used to work out of his garage!" He jabbered excitedly, like a happy ten-year old, who had just met a real life superhero.

But Nick's excitement increased, tenfold, when the group caught sight of Russell's car. "Is that the Bentley that you let Jess drive, the other day?" Nick inquired giddily.

Russell laughed good-naturedly. "So, you heard about that, huh?"

Nick grinned mischievously, "Heard about it? I was on the phone with her when it happened! Ooh, she was super pissed at you, man . . . You know, up until you rescued her with your awesome car. I think her exact words were, 'I want to throw my cell phone in the hell fires, where he keeps his poor people . . . _OWWW_!"

Jess had just not-so-subtly elbowed Nick in the gut.

"Careful! My back is still sore from the time you tackled me in the park," Nick griped. "Don't ever play touch football with this girl, Russell. You'll live to regret it," He added, inclining his head in Jess' direction.

"I'll try to remember that," replied Russell. "So, what's this about me having a fire, where I keep . . . _poor people_?" He asked Jess.

"He's totally kidding," exclaimed Jess way too loudly, accenting the statement with a fake belly laugh, that wasn't fooling anyone. "I would _never_ say anything like that. I love rich people! I watch _Real Housewives of New Jersey_ all the time! Not that I'm saying you're rich or anything . . . or that there would be anything wrong with you _being_ rich . . . "

Russell smiled, and shook his head, eager to put Jess out of her obvious misery. "It's OK . . . I _am _rich. And I really don't mind that you contemplated throwing your phone in the fire, where I keep my . . . _whatever_. The truth is, I probably deserved it. My ex-wife was always the one who handled the parent-teacher conferences. I never could quite figure out how to navigate them, without coming off like a total douche."

"I call shotgun," Nick interrupted, his hand poised on the door handle of the Bentley.

Jess' lower lip jutted out petulantly, as she imagined Russell and Nick talking about "guy stuff," in the front seat, while she sat alone, making up songs about how lonely the backseats of cars can be. "Uh, Nick . . . I really don't think that Russell . . ." she began diplomatically.

"I'll do you one better, Nick," chimed in Russell, to Jess' surprise. "You can drive us there."

"Seriously?" Jess and Nick said in unison, both equally shocked.

"You'd let me drive your car?" Nick asked, a goofy grin plastered across his face, as if he had just found out he'd won the lottery.

"Sure," replied Russell, nonchalantly. "I've got Onstar . . . and a good auto insurance policy. I've already input the location. The car practically drives itself. So, enjoy yourself, Nick. Jess and I will sit in the back."

Jess thought she caught a little frown from Nick, at that last response. But she figured she was probably imagining things . . .

It took some time. (Nick had to experiment with every single button on the dashboard first . . . some of them multiple times.) But, eventually, they got on the road.

While Nick was focusing on his driving, Russell took the opportunity to get closer to Jess. He gently clasped her dainty fingers in one of his hands, while wrapping the other hand around her trim waist. In the rearview mirror, Nick watched, eyes narrowed in frustration, as the two moved toward one another, lips nearly touching.

Suddenly, the car stopped short, causing the couple in the back seat to painfully bump noses.

"Sorry," Nick said sheepishly. "I, uh . . . thought I saw a . . . _cat_ . . . in the road."

"Nick Miller breaks for animals," Jess exclaimed. "Who knew? What kind of cat was it? I love cats."

"Uh . . . it was a . . . _not dead one_," offered Nick, avoiding Jess' eyes, as he spoke. "So . . . Russell . . ." he began, eager to change the subject. "Is your kid the one who made the robot that Jess broke, right before the science fair?"

"NICK!" Jess exclaimed.

Russell turned toward Jess with a mixture of amusement, and just a hint of concern. "You broke a student's _science project_? I'm sure it was an accident, right?"

"Well . . ." sang Jess.

"She did it because the girl told her happiness was a mask," Nick blurted out.

Jess' mouth dropped open. This meant WAR! "Nick almost had a threesome with our creepy landlord," she shouted, instantly regretting the words, the minute she uttered them.

Nick laughed. "That's true, Russell. I _did_ almost have a threesome with our creepy landlord. But so did _Jess."_

Russell eyed his two car companions curiously, sensing something palpable between them that he couldn't quite put his finger on. "So . . . how long were two dating?" He asked finally.

"What? NO!" Jess insisted. "Nick and I are . . ."

" . . . just friends," Nick said, a bit wistfully, as he caught Jess' eyes in the rearview mirror.

She stared at him pointedly for a few extended seconds, before shyly looking away. "Look, we're here!" Jess shouted.

When the group emerged from the car, Jess allowed Russell to walk a bit ahead of her. Nick was about to pass her too, when Jess yanked roughly on the back of his shirt collar.

"Hey! What gives?" Nick asked under his breath.

"Give me your hand," Jess said calmly.

Nick cocked his eyebrows at Jess, "What?"

"I said, _give me_ your hand."

Nick felt heat rising in the back of his neck, as he cautiously extended his right hand toward Jess. Then, Jess gave his wrist a light, but decisive, _slap_.

"Did you just _spank me_?" Nick asked, clearly amused.

"Yes, I spanked you, Nick Miller. You need a _Time Out_," Jess lectured, as if Nick was one of her unruly students.

"Because of what I said in the car? I was just trying to make conversation! If you don't mind my saying so, it was getting a _little bit_ awkward, back there," Nick mused.

"YOU . . . _You_ made it awkward . . . when you talked about the robot I broke, and told Russell those bad things I said about rich people. And you know what? There was NO CAT in the road, Nick!"

Nick looked down at the floor. "It could have been a cat," he muttered under his breath.

Jess' expression suddenly turned solemn. "Nick, why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Acting like you did when I was with _Paul._ I thought you _liked_ Russell?"

"I _do _like Russell. He's a great guy. He's a grown up. He's who I wanna be in ten years . . . I think," Nick explained, looking contrite.

Jess tapped her finger on her chin, mulling this over a bit. "Wait a minute . . . is that what this is? Are you_ jealous_ of my relationship with Russell?"

"No . . . absolutely not, Jess. I can't believe you would think . . . just . . . _no_," Nick sputtered.

"Then, _what is it?"_

Nick shook his head, embarrassed. "It's nothing. I'm just being a jerk. And you don't deserve it. I'm sorry."

Seeing Nick look so defeated, made Jess feel incredibly guilty for making him look that way. "You're not a jerk. It's fine. _We're fine_. Just . . . try to _behave yourself_, OK?" She admonished, in her best stern school teacher voice.

"Yes, Ms. Day," Nick mumbled, with a guilty smirk, as he hastened his steps to catch up with Russell.

"Oh . . . and Nick?" Jess called after him.

"Yeah, Jess?"

"I just have one more question."

"Anything," offered Nick, incredibly relieved that all seemed to have been forgiven.

"Why did you _really_ come out with us today?"

Nick paused for a second, contemplating his next move. _Maybe, I should tell her. _He thought. But then he looked in Jess' big blue eyes, and saw nothing but guileless innocence. She really _was_ perfect, wasn't she? Too perfect _for him_.

"I told you. I really wanted to ride on a yacht," he said sadly.

Jess regarded Nick in silence for a few moments, searching his face for answers that, deep down, she already knew. "Let's get you on that yacht, then . . . _Underpants Captain_."

Nick smiled, and shook his head. "That's me. I'm a fantastic Underpants Captain," he concluded, as the pair stepped aboard the yacht _together_ . . .


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm the KING OF THE WORLD," Nick exclaimed, arms outstretched toward the front of the boat, when he thought no one was listening.

Russell caught him. "_Titanic_ reference?" He inquired, with raised eyebrows.

_Busted._

Nick smirked. "Yeah . . . Not that I watch movies like that . . . because I don't . . . _at all_. I usually tend to watch more . . . um . . . _manly_ movies . . . with chase scenes, where people get blown up . . . and . . . stuff."

Russell nodded, clearly unconvinced. "You _do_ know that the guy who said those lines died at the end of the movie, right?"

Nick nodded sadly. "Poor Leonardo DiCaprio. He thought he was the King of the World . . . and ended up being the King of the Ice Cubes. It might have even made me cry . . . if, I wasn't the manly man that I am, of course."

"Of course," replied Russell dryly.

"So, listen, if you could just . . . um . . . not tell Jess what you saw here today, that would be really great," Nick pleaded.

"Your secret is safe with me," answered Russell, as the two men headed inside the yacht, where Jess was already making herself at home, by bouncing up and down on each piece of furniture in Russell's sitting room, trying to decide, which one made her butt the happiest.

They had time for a quick tour around the yacht, before it headed "out to sea." Nick and Jess felt like kids in a candy shop, examining trinkets and artifacts that probably cost more than both of their annual salaries combined. Jess even managed to find an "Underpants Captain" hat for Nick, which she insisted that he wear for the remainder of the trip.

All of the awkwardness of the earlier car ride, had been completely forgotten . . . that is, until the threesome arrived in the master bedroom . . .

"Russell, you didn't tell me you had a _water bed!_"Jess babbled excitedly. "When I was a kid, I always wanted a water bed, but my mom would never let me have one. She was afraid, if I got one, I'd poke a hole in it, and drown."

Russell smiled. "That's funny. I used that exact excuse on Sara, when she asked for one for her room. But really, I'm just afraid she'll use it as an excuse to invite boys into her bedroom, once she hits her teenage years."

"Nah . . . she'll probably just invite them on your yacht, while you're away on business trips, and have sex with them _here_," Nick mumbled to himself.

By the time he realized he had just said that out loud, both Russell and Jess were already glaring at him. "Wow . . . _yeah_ . . . I'm just gonna stop talking for the rest of the day. Thanks," he said awkwardly.

(Schmidt wasn't the only one who sometimes required a Douchebag Jar.)

Ever the whiz at diffusing awkward situations (at least the ones she hadn't created _herself_), Jess turned her attention toward Russell, looking up at the older man, shyly, as she spoke. "Hey Russell . . . can I ask you a question that's probably going to make you think less of me?"

"Yes, Jess. You can jump on my waterbed," replied Russell, with a wink, having clearly anticipated the question.

Jess clapped her hands with glee, and gave Russell a quick hug, while Nick looked on, with quiet amusement. Seconds later, she was jumping on Russell's water bed . . . her arms flapping at her sides like an oversized bird.

"Get your cute little bartender butt up here, Underpants Captain. You HAVE to try this," demanded Jess breathlessly, as she motioned frenetically toward Nick.

Nick shook his head vigorously. "That's quite all right, Jess. I'll just leave the jumping to you," he said, with just a hint of nervousness in his voice.

But Jess refused to take no for an answer. "No! That's the old 'hold-people's-wallets-while-they jump-in-the-lake,' Nick talking! New-and-improved Nick is going to jump on this bed with me, dammit! Dip your toe in the pool of possibilities, Nick. Unless, of course . . . you're a _chicken_, "Jess challenged, as she began to do her best chicken impersonation across the bed, sound effects, included.

Nick gritted his teeth with frustration. "I'm not a chicken, Jess! It's just that waterbeds make me seasick."

The surprise admission made Jess stop jumping so abruptly, she nearly fell off the bed. "_You _get _seasick_?" She asked, frowning sympathetically.

Nick shrugs his shoulders. "Only about 95% of the time. The other 5%, I'm fine," he offers hopefully.

Jess furrowed her brow with concern, "Nick, you do realize that this boat is eventually going to _move_, right?"

As if on cue, a loud horn sounded outside, signaling that the boat was leaving the dock.

For a second, Nick's face resembled that of a trapped animal. However, he managed a weak smile for Jess' sake. "Jess, don't worry about me. I'll be _fine_. Besides, this isn't just any boat. It's a _yacht_. And I'm a Yacht Guy!"

_Less than twenty minutes later . . ._

"I'm sooooo not a yacht guy," Nick moaned, as he leaned uncomfortably over the side of the boat, his white-knuckles clenched tightly around the guardrail.

(As if to prove his point, Nick's Underpants Captain Hat took this opportunity to fall into the water below, and float away.)

"Sure you are," said Jess cheerfully, as she placed her hand comfortingly on Nick's back. "You just might not be a _Moving_ Yacht Guy."

"I think I'm _dying,_" Nick muttered pitifully, his face was so pale at this point that it had started to take on a grayish hue.

"Nick, you aren't _dying,_" Jess insisted. "You're just _puking_!"

Then, she broke into song. "And everybody PUKKKKKKESSS . . . sometimesssss . . ."

"Jess," Nick groaned.

"Yeah, Nick?"

"Please, don't sing REM songs about my vomit."

"Just trying to lighten the mood," Jess insisted, her expression suddenly turning serious. "I'm really sorry that you got seasick," she offered.

"Me too," Nick admitted guiltily. "Listen, you don't have to stay here with me. You should be off with Russell, enjoying your Big Fancy Yacht Date."

"Don't be ridiculous, Nick," Jess replied, her fingers absentmindedly massaging Nick's surprisingly muscular neck, as she spoke. "I plan on staying here with you, until you feel better . . . or until you've emptied the entire contents of your stomach into the harbor . . . whichever comes first."

In response, Nick wretched again.

"Oooh, Nick," Jess said sympathetically, looking out at the now-discolored water below. "How many times have I told you not to eat guacamole for breakfast?"

Nick turned to glare at Jess. But the sweetly affectionate way she's looking him, and the surprisingly soothing feeling of her dainty fingers, as they traced lazy circles across his skin, made him instantly forget why he was annoyed at her, in the first place.

"Is . . . uh . . . he gonna be OK?" Russell asked, hovering awkwardly over the pair.

"He's going to be better than OK, he's going to be _grrrrrreeeattt_," Jess exclaimed enthusiastically, wondering briefly whether Russell might be too old to catch her Tony the Tiger, Frosted Flakes, reference.

Nick groaned again, subtly letting Jess know that even if _Russell _missed the pop culture reference, _he_ heard it, loud and clear.

Russell's nose twitched, as he shifted uncomfortably on the balls of his feet. "I think I have some Dramamine in the bathroom. I'll go get it," he offered, clearly eager to escape all this _sickness._

"Thanks Russell! And make sure it's the non-drowsy kind!" Jess called out, after him.

Once Russell was out of earshot, Jess turned her attention back to Nick. "Hey, Roomie! Look what I have," she said excitedly, pulling a pink toothbrush, and Miss Piggy bubble gum toothpaste out of her red and white polka dot purse. "It's never been used! And the best part is that, if you press the button on the center of the toothbrush, it plays Britney Spears' "Hit me baby, one more time!"

Nick vomited again.

"Not a Britney Spears fan, I see," Jess mused. "Darn it! I knew I should have bought the Backstreet Boys one, instead."

Nick smiled, in spite of himself. Seeing this as an invitation, Jess proceeded to lean toward him with the toothbrush.

"I think I can handle brushing my own teeth, Jess," said Nick.

As Nick grabbed hold of the embarrassingly feminine toothbrush, his fingers brushed inadvertently against Jess'. Their eyes lingered on one another for a few surprisingly intense moments, before Nick finally pulled away, and began brushing his teeth.

"Jesshh, thereth somewin I neah to tewww ewwwsh," explained Nick, his mouth filled with bubblegum toothpaste.

"_What_?" Jess asked, clearly confused.

Nick spit the toothpaste into the harbor. "Sorry," He said sheepishly. "There's something I need to tell you," he repeated, once his mouth was clean, and refreshingly puke free.

Russell chose this moment to return with the Dramamine. Nick gratefully grabbed the bottle, popped six pills in his mouth at once, and swallowed them, before Jess could stop him.

Jess' eyes widened, when she caught sight of the pill bottle. Those_ were_ the non-drowsy ones, right?" She inquired.

Russell shook his head. "Sorry, I didn't have any of the non-drowsy kind."

"Woah . . . these work _fast_," Nick mused, a dopey grin forming at the corners of his mouth. "I probably didn't need to take that many. Oh well!"

"Uh oh!" Jess said, in response.

Russell rolled his eyes. "It's over-the-counter medication. I'm sure he'll be fine. Just keep an eye on him. I'm going to check to see if dinner is ready," he added, escaping before Jess could inquire further into the situation.

Jess promptly turned her attention back to Nick. "You should start feeling better, really soon," she told him, placing a comforting hand on his cheek.

"Jess," Nick said solemnly, turning to face her, his eyes growing increasingly heavy lidded, as the not-non-drowsy Dramamine worked its way through his bloodstream. "You're always taking care of me."

"No, I'm not," she said, as she carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, and straightened the collar of his shirt.

"Yes, you _are," _Nick insisted. "You took care of me, when I had to face Caroline at that wedding. You bought me a plant, when Julia dumped me. You took me to the doctor, when I hurt my back. And you stayed by my side all night, when I thought I had cancer. Ever since I met, you, you've always been there for me, when I needed you. And you deserve . . ." Nick's head suddenly felt very heavy, and his thoughts and words were growing increasingly muddy. "You deserve . . . someone . . . who can take care of you."

"Awww . . . but Nick . . ." Jess began.

"Wait . . . please . . . let me finish," Nick interrupted.

He was trying desperately to fight off the wave of sleep that was insistently pulling him under its firm grasp. And the soothing, gentle way Jess kept rubbing his forehead, certainly wasn't helping matters.

"That's why I wanted you to go out with Russell. I thought he could take care of you, in a way that you . . . that I _couldn't_ . . . But the problem with you going out with Russell . . . and the real reason I came on this yacht with you, today . . . is because I think I'm fall . . . I mean, I know I . . . I lo . . ."

Nick's eyes fluttered shut, as he fell backward into Jess' arms. "NICK!" Jess frantically, shook him awake.

"Where am I?" He asked groggily, seeming to have completely forgotten his earlier train of thought.

"You're on a yacht, Nick," Jess explained, a worried expression on her face.

"I'm on a yacht! WOOHOO! I'm a Yacht Guy!" Nick mused drunkenly, as Jess slipped her arm around his waist, and dragged him inside.

By the time they reached the lounge area (since the water bed was clearly out of the question), Nick was fast asleep again. His head was resting precariously on Jess' shoulder, filling her nose with the smell of bubble gum toothpaste, and another, subtle, yet oddly intoxicating scent, that was uniquely Nick's own.

Gently, Jess settled Nick onto the leather couch, and took off each of his sneakers. She then found an old quilt on a nearby chair, and draped it across his body. Comfortably swaddled in fabric, Nick smiled in his sleep, and breathed a sleepy sigh of contentedness.

Jess kneeled next to the couch, and watched her roommate sleep for a few minutes, mesmerized by how peaceful and happy he looked. But when she finally rose to leave, Nick grabbed her arm, and held her firmly in place. Startled, she turned to look at him, surprised to see that his eyes were still closed.

She then placed her free hand over his own, in an attempt to gently extricate herself from his grasp, without waking him. And that's when it happened. The seemingly sleeping Nick, pressed his face against Jess' own, and treated her lips to the sweetest, most sensual, kiss she had ever experienced.

Before she could rationalize what was occurring, Jess found herself kissing him back, amorously. Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair, while her mouth hungrily explored his own, as if her lips had been created for this precise purpose.

Then, just like that, it was over. Nick's head collapsed backward into the downy softness of the couch, leaving Jess to stare at him, open-mouthed, while touching her lips in wonderment. "I love you, Jessica Day," she heard him whisper in his sleep.

Now, it was Jess' turn to feel dizzy and light headed. Her entire body felt tingly. Her tummy was doing somersaults onto itself. And yet, she was quite certain that seasickness had nothing to do with it . . .


	4. Chapter 4

"This is _sooooo _great," Jess babbled, unable to endure another moment of awkward silence at the dinner table, while Nick slept off his Dramamine drunk down the hall. "You know, I was worried that you and I would run out of stuff to talk about. But we didn't, at all! Like, for example, we talked about how you liked the chicken we're eating right now . . . and how I liked the chicken. And you told me your favorite color was green. And I told you mine was red. But I also really liked pink, even though that makes a bit of a girly cliche. And I asked you about your favorite TV shows. And you said you didn't watch TV. And I said . . ."

"Jess," Russell interrupted with a slightly exasperated smile. "I know what we talked about. I was _there_ . . . remember?"

"Of course, you were there," Jess exclaimed, with an uncomfortable laugh. "And now I'm just repeating myself! SO LAME, right? Hey . . . did I mention, before, how much I LOVE this chicken?" Jess added nervously, putting a way-too-large forkful of poultry in her mouth.

"Yeah . . . umm . . . is everything OK with you?" Russell inquired, looking at Jess pointedly, as he took a bite of his salad.

Jess hadn't realized, up until this point, that she had been frenetically tapping her foot under the table, for the past fifteen minutes. She squeezed her knee tightly, in an attempt to force herself to stop. "Everything's great . . . _totally_ great," replied Jess, as she gulped down her wine. "Why wouldn't it be?"

Russell smiled. "Because, ever since we sat down for dinner, you've been acting a little weird . . . well . . . _weirder_ than usual."

"Nick's nothing," Jess said, covering her hand over her mouth, as soon as she realized her little slip-up. _Maybe he didn't notice_. She thought to herself.

"What was that?"

"I said . . . _it's _nothing," Jess insisted, enunciating her words, as if doing so could obliterate the memory of her previous statement in the older man's mind.

"Did you? Because, it sounded like you said _Nick's_ nothing," Russell prodded.

Jess nervously chewed on her lower lip. "You know, I once read this really interesting article about how most men start to lose their hearing, after age 40," she said solemnly.

Russell gently laid his fork down on his napkin. "Jess . . . I saw you kiss him," he admitted finally.

Upon hearing this, Jess dropped her knife, causing it to clatter loudly on her plate. To make matters worse, she was quite certain she had forgotten how to breathe. "What . . . kiss? Kiss _who_? I didn't . . . I mean . . . ," she fumbled awkwardly, pointedly avoiding Russell's gaze. "Mmmm, these carrots are delicious! Remind me to get the recipe from the chef."

Russell was eerily calm, "Look at me, Jess . . . please?"

Jess suddenly felt like a teenager, who had just been caught smoking pot in the high school bathroom. Reluctantly, she raised her big blue eyes to meet Russell's seemingly all-knowing brown ones. "Russell . . ." she began. "I'm really sorry you had to see that. I shouldn't have . . . I mean we . . . It just kind of . . ."

"_Happened_?" Russell inquired, finishing Jess' statement for her. "Jess, I haven't known you for that long. But I know you well enough to know that you aren't the kind of girl who let's things like that _just happen_."

Jess sighed, and leaned back in her chair. The truth of the matter was, she was _dying_ to talk to someone about this. Making out with a roommate, who may or may not actually be in love with you, simply wasn't the kind of intel girls like Jess kept to themselves. Events like that were meant to be broken down into itty bitty pieces, and analyzed, _ad nauseum_, with _very_ patient friends.

In fact, immediately after it had happened, Jess had left no less than six messages on Cece's voicemail. _Stupid photo shoots, and their ridiculously unreasonable "no cell phone" policies._ Jess grumbled to herself, when she finally extricated herself from the yacht bathroom, after twenty-five agonizing minutes (and only then, because she worried that Russell would think she had been abusing the happy face buttons on the bidet again.)

Jess knew she absolutely needed a sounding board for the roller coaster of emotions she was currently experiencing. She just never thought that sounding board would end up being the 42-year old multi-millionaire boyfriend she had sort of / kind of just cheated on . . .

"Nick was uh . . . not himself . . . when he kissed me, "Jess posited tentatively.

"Jess, high on Dramamine or not, the guy is head-over-heels in love with you. Anyone can see that! I knew it the second he tried to save you from drowning in my less-than-a-foot-deep koi pond," Russell explained matter-of-factly.

Jess tapped her chin, thoughtfully. "Hmm . . . I just figured that was because he didn't want to risk losing my share of the rent."

Russell's expression turned serious again. "OK . . . so, we've established how Nick feels about you. The _real _question is how do you feel about _him_?"

Jess' cheeks blushed a deep red, "I . . . I . . . oh, Russell . . . You've been so super human about all of this. I don't want to . . ." she began.

Russell smiled sadly. "It's OK . . . You don't have to tell me. I have a sneaking suspicion the answer won't be something I want to hear, anyway. But I think you owe it to yourself . . . and to Nick . . . to tell _him."_

Jess nodded. Russell was right. She and Nick definitely needed to talk about what had happened between them . . . that is, once Nick was wide awake and sober enough to understand the things she would be saying to him . . .

"When did you get so wise?" Jess asked the man seated across the table from her.

Russell grinned. "Didn't you know? It's one of the perks of being _old_ . . ."

_Some time later . . ._

Nick awakened to the sight of a large glass eye, positioned just inches away from his face. Whatever it was, it definitely didn't look human.

"AHHH! Alien INVASION! Please don't stick anything up my ass," Nick yelped, shimmying away from the offending orb.

Jess poked her head out from behind the telescope she had been using to "examine" her roommate, while he slept. "Your eye looks _so cool_ in this lens! You have to come over here and check it out . . . Oh . . . wait . . . you can't see it, because it's _your_ eye."

"Oh, Jess . . . it's _you_," Nick said, with a mixture of relief and embarrassment.

"Yeah, it's me. I come in peace," she added, in her best alien voice. "You know, you're so negative, Nick. Why do you always assume alien life forms are awful beings that want to stick tubes up your butt? They _could be_ kind and gentle individuals, who just want to get back to their home planet . . . like E.T!"

"How long was I out for?" Nick asked, as he rubbed his eyes, and stretched his arms above his head.

"Long enough for me to give you a tushy probe," Jess joked. "You know, you really should eat more fiber."

Nick grinned, but secretly took a peek at his backside, when Jess wasn't looking . . . just in case. "So," he said, with an air of nonchalance he didn't feel. "Where's our favorite Fancyman?"

Jess avoided Nick's eyes, as she looked over his shoulder, out into the harbor. "He's gone," she said calmly. "Probably, for good."

"_For good_? He didn't jump overboard, did he? Because, I gotta warn you, even if I'm wearing a life jacket, I'm not a particularly good swimmer," Nick noted.

"No, he didn't jump," Jess explained. "But he did have the captain dock the yacht, before he gave him the rest of the night off. He also told me to mail him back the keys, whenever I get the chance. The dude is just _way_ too trusting, when it comes to lending out his Rich Guy Stuff, if you ask me."

Nick studied Jess' face for signs of disappointment or depression. He knew she typically tended to hide her sadness behind excessive optimism and courtesy. It made her frustratingly difficult to read. Lately, he had come to realize that he valued her happiness even more than his own. And that realization terrified him . . .

"I'm really sorry, Jess . . . If I had anything to do with you two . . . Listen, I'll talk to him. I'll make it right . . . whatever it takes," he said solemnly, placing his hand comfortingly on her shoulder.

"NO," Jess exclaimed pulling away from Nick's touch, though the dejected expression on Nick's face, made her instantly regret the sudden movement. "You . . . Russell . . . Cece . . . Everyone has to stop _fixing _things for me. I'm an adult now. I have to learn to fix things _for myself_."

"OK," said Nick, looking hurt. "Whatever you want, Jess."

"Nick . . . how much do you remember about the last few hours?" Jess inquired, as she settled back down next to him on the couch.

"Well . . . let's see," Nick said thoughtfully. "I remember driving here in that kickass Bentley. I remember you calling me Underpants Captain a lot. That was kind of fun. I remember you jumping on Russell's bed. I remember puking my guts out. And I remember Russell giving me pills to stop me from puking my guys out. After that, things get a little hazy."

Jess nodded. "So . . . you don't remember . . . _kissing me_ . . ." She offered, feigning sudden interest in the pattern of the carpet.

"I _kissed you_," Nick said, letting the words sink in to his consciousness. "Oh, god, Jess . . . I . . ."

"And you _definitely _don't remember telling me that you love me."

Nick felt all the blood leave his face. _I ruined everything._ He thought to himself morosely. _She'll never be able to look at me the same way again._

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice sounding strange and foreign to his ears.

"Is it true?" Jess asked, her eyes filled with tears, for reasons she couldn't quite explain. "Do you _love me?"_

"Yes, I do," said Nick, resolutely, looking her straight in the eye.

There was no other possible answer to that question . . .

Jess looked at him, wide-eyed, for a few, seemingly interminable moments. Each silent second felt like a knife through Nick's heart. Finally, he built up the courage to speak again. "Jess . . . I know this complicates things . . . because we're roommates . . . and _friends_. But I promise you, I won't . . ."

Jess' lips found Nick's at that moment, obliterating his explanations, apologies, and compromises, with a passion fueled by months and months of pent up emotion that had been swept under the carpet, out of convenience and fear. _Nick and Jess. Jess and Nick._ It had always been like this, between them. She knew that now. This was just the first time she was allowing herself to truly experience it, in all its euphoric bliss.

When Jess finally extricated herself from Nick's strong grasp, he was staring at her with a look of such wonder and amazement, that she couldn't imagine being looked at that way by anyone else. It was the same way he looked at her, the first time he saw her in a dress . . . and the way he looked at her in the photo booth at the first wedding they attended together. It was how he looked at her, after they spent the night together on the beach . . . and when he first found out that he didn't have cancer.

Seeing him look at her like that, Jess wondered how she could have been so blind to all this for so long. But, more importantly, she vowed never to be blind to it again. "I love you too," Jess whispered in Nick's ear. "I think, deep down, I always have."

Nick couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy, or _so complete_. For a few moments, they just stared at one another . . . savoring the moment . . . his hand pressed against her cheek . . . her hand on his heart.

"You know what I've always wanted to do?" Nick said, finally, a mischievous grin forming at the corners of his mouth, as he spoke. "I've always wanted to have earth-shattering, mind-numbing, sex on some rich guy's boat, with the woman I love."

"Well, what do you know?" said Jess with a wink, as she methodically ripped open the buttons on Nick's shirt. "I guess that means you're a Yacht Guy, after all."


End file.
